


Chasing After Gold Mines

by geckoholic



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4140720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>For as long as she can remember, Angie had dreams bigger than herself.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing After Gold Mines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngeNoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/gifts).



> This is based more on your letter as a whole and listed preferences than any specific prompts, but you said to just go with what comes to mind, sooooooo, I hope you'll like the result. ;D
> 
> Beta-read by andibeth82. Thank you!! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "Between The Raindrops" by Lifehouse.

Angie always figured the phone company was code for _something_. She'd never, in her wildest dreams, thought it'd be a cover for "badass secret agent who almost dated Captain America". 

 

***

 

The house is _huge_. Too big for just the two of them, surely – though, on the other hand, Angie grew up in shoe-box apartments where you had to hang your laundry on the tiny balcony, so maybe her sense of proportion isn't quite used to these dimensions. Maybe the awe at the sheer _size_ of everything will fade after a while. She kind of hopes it won't. 

If Peggy is anywhere near as impressed by how spacious the place is, she doesn't show it. She walks through everything like she belongs there, and it makes Angie think of royalty, old English gentry, even though she knows how stupid that is. Assuming every Brit is regal is the same as assuming every Yankee is a corn farmer, she supposes. But, either way, Peggy... she's _different_. Angie can live with her and steal age-old whine out of Stark's cellar with her and joke with her while they use a table service so expensive a couple spoons alone might've solved most of her mama's problems back in the day. But they'll never be cut from the same cloth. 

 

***

 

For as long as she can remember, Angie had dreams bigger than herself. She wanted to be someone else, something else, somewhere else, and she didn't let anyone tell her she couldn't. That way of life earned her a bunch of disappointments, and many odd looks. And it's not like she didn't care – she did, she does – but the _wanting_ was always stronger. 

The moon hangs in the sky, full and bright, guiding their way as they stroll home from the diner. Peggy showed up shortly before closing time, sat down in the corner booth without greeting but with a weary smile, and waited for the end of Angie's shift. Now they're walking side by side as they cross the street towards the entrance of the residence, and once again, people are looking. This time, though, it's not pity or embarrassment. It's envy. They look them up and down, as if pondering how exactly they came to live in an estate like that. Angie’s still wearing her work uniform. Peggy has taken off her shoes, one of her heels on the verge of breaking. It’s clear as day they don’t belong here. 

She's still not an actress, she's still a waitress, and she still hasn't caught up to her dreams. But at least now she's having them in an old, sturdy four-poster-bed, surrounded by exquisite furniture, and with Peggy sleeping just across the hall. 

 

***

 

Angie had her first crush on a girl when she was fourteen years old. She didn't have many friends, but Karen, an Irish girl from two stories up and two years older than her, always went on about the boys she met, and Angie eventually realized that she felt the exact same way for Karen. The revelation didn't trouble her; she knew it was wrong, would be considered immoral and perverted, and she had no intention to _do_ anything about her feelings. It was just another desire she knew might go unfilled, she'd already realized she'd have to pick her battles if she wanted to accomplish any of the things she dreamed about and she quickly decided that, in the grand scheme of things, kissing Karen didn't have such a high priority. 

These days, she sits opposite Peggy over lunch – some fancy broth with a complicated name Mr. Jarvis brought over – and as she sips at a spoonful and nibbles her bread, she wonders what it'd be like to kiss _her_. Peggy's lip is split, a fading bruise on her jaw, and she looks like her mind is miles away. Maybe thinking of _him_ , mourning both the man she loved and the times she met him in. For all Angie knows, Peggy isn't _like that_ , immoral and perverted and wrong. 

She's dreaming too big again. 

 

***

 

Three months after they first moved in, Angie lands her first significant speaking role. She'd gone to the audition more out of spite than in the hopes she'd make the cut; her previous director had thrown the part in her face, as the kind of role she would never be able to pull off, and when she saw that audition she went to throw him the finger. She didn't expect to get it. When the callback came, she'd entertained the thought it might be a prank. But here she is, a few weeks later, in costume, waiting for the curtain to rise so she can step in front of an audience. 

Somewhere behind it, if she made it, if she isn't busy chasing bad guys, there's Peggy. The crowd of nameless faces in there doesn't other Angie – she never cared about the judgment of strangers – but that thought makes her nervous. She knows Peggy will have nothing but praise and encouragement afterwards, in any case, isn't the type of person to burst a friend's bubble. Angie wants it to be genuine, wants to take her friend's breath away, make her proud, make her... No, no, that doesn't matter. One dream coming true is enough for one night. Angie closes her eyes. The curtain is pulled. She takes a deep breath and steps onto the stage. 

 

***

 

The morning after the premiere, Peggy's sitting in front of a stack of papers when Angie steps into the kitchen, and it takes her sleep-foggy mind a moment to connect the dots. Theater. Premiere. Papers. _Reviews._

Peggy went out to get the morning papers, plural, and check them for reviews. She turns her head when Angie approaches, and she smiles. Takes one of the papers and opens it on the feuilleton, holds it up, shakes it a little. Angie doesn't think she's ever seen her this excited. 

And maybe she's still riding a high from last night's accomplishment, the applause and the kind words from the rest of the cast and the director clapping louder than anyone in the audience, but today, Angie decides, she's not going to be content with getting just one of the things she wants. She sits next to Peggy, takes the paper from her but doesn't read, instead setting it aside and leaning in. Peggy looks at her quizzically, and Angie almost changes her mind before she recognizes the way Peggy's gaze zeroes in on her lips. That's not something proper, moral women do when presented with her best friend's mouth, up close, just a turn of the head away from a kiss. 

She abandons all doubt, any second thoughts, and brings their lips together. Peggy doesn't miss a beat, kisses back immediately and with a hunger that implies she's been entertaining the thought for about as long as Angie has. Her hand comes up to curl around Angie's neck, pull her closer. When she draws back, she's looking a little bit drowsy, tongue darting out to lick her lips. She's gorgeous, though and brave, supportive and loyal. She's a hero. She's Angie's best friend. And now she's going to be _so much more_. 

 

***

 

Angie always had dreams bigger than herself, and she got disappointed more often than she succeeded. But sometimes, dreams do come true.


End file.
